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the merry merry cuckoo: the 
deacon's hat: welsh honeymoon 



THREE WELSH 
PLAYS 

THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 
THE DEACON'S HAT 
WELSH HONEYMOON 

BY 

JEANNETTE MARKS 



SJ ON'REFfek f 




SWvAp-QHS 



BOSTON 

, LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1917 



Copyright, igj2, iQi6y igi7y 
By Jeannette Marks. 






All rights reserved 
Published, February, 19 17 



The professional and amateur stage rights of these plays are strictly 
reserved by the author. Application for permission to produce the plays 
should he made to the author, who may be addressed in care of the 
publishers* 



4 



fO^UO 



SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY THE PLIMPTON PRESS, NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A 
PRINTED BY S. J, PARKHILL & CO. BOSTON MASS., U.S.A. 



MAR -3 1917 

©CI.A457310 









THESE THREE PLAYS 
ARE DEDICATED TO 

THE WELSH NATIONAL THEATRE 

Calon zvrth Galon 



PREFACE 

POETRY" and "song" are words which convey, 
better than any other two words could, the price- 
less gifts of the Welsh people to the world. With their 
love for music, for beauty, for the significance of their 
land and its folklore, their inherent romance in the 
difficult art of living, they have transformed ugliness 
into beauty, turned loneliness into speech, and ever 
recalled life to its only permanent possessions in won- 
der and romance. 

Curiously enough, the Welsh, rich in poetry and in 
music, have been almost altogether devoid of plays. 
But no one who has read those first Welsh tales in the 
"Mabinogion" (c. 1260) could for an instant think the 
Cymru devoid of the dramatic instinct. The Welsh 
way of interpreting experience is essentially dramatic. 
The Dream of Maxen Wledig, The Dream of Rhonabwy, 
both from the "Mabinogion," are sharply dramatic, 
although then and later Welsh literature remained 
practically devoid of the play form. Experience 
dramatized is, too, that Pilgrim's Progress of Gwalia: 
"YBarddCwsg"(1703). 

Every gift of the Welsh would seem to promise the 
realization some day of a great national drama, for 
they have not only the gift of poetry and the power to 
seize the symbol — short cut through experience — 



viil PREFACE 



which can, even as the crutch of Ibsen's Httle Eyolf, 
lift a play into greatness; they have, also, natures 
profoundly emotional and yet intellectually critical. 
They are, humanly speaking, perfect tools for the 
achievement of great drama. But it is a drab jour- 
ney from those "Mabinogion" days of wonder, coarse 
and crude as they were in many ways, yet intensely 
vital, through the "Bardd Cwsg" to Twm o'r Nant 
(1739-1810) the so-called "Welsh Shakespeare," whose 
Interludes might, with sufficient worrying, afford 
delectation to the rock-ribbed Puritanism which has 
stood, as much as any other oppression, in the way of 
Gwalia's full development of her genius for beauty. 

It was, then, a significant moment when "The 
Welsh National Theatre" came into existence with so 
powerful a patron as Lord Howard de Walden, lessee 
of the Haymarket, and Owen Rhoscomyl (Captain 
Owen Vaughan) and other gifted Welsh literati for its 
sponsors. And it did not seem an insignificant moment 
to one person when the playwright of The Merry Merry 
Cuckoo and Welsh Honeymoon learned through her 
friendly agent, Curtis Brown of London, that she had 
received one of the Welsh National Theatre's first 
prizes (1911). 

These plays have been given in many places: The 
Little Theatre in Minneapolis, the Fifth Avenue Theatre 
in New York, the Toy Theatre in Boston, and by vari- 
ous branches of the American Drama Society, whose 
President, Charlotte Porter, and Vice President, Mrs. 
Marks (Josephine Preston Peabody), have been warm 
friends to my Welsh plays. They have been pre- 
sented in several colleges and by various chibs and 



PREFACE ix 



are in demand among Schools of Expression and in 
college classrooms. The author has read them before 
clubs and societies. Enthusiasm for The Merry 
Merry Cuckoo led Luther B. Anthony, Editor of the 
Dramatist, to reprint it in his original and widely- 
known magazine. Two of the plays have appeared 
elsewhere, The Merry Merry Cuckoo in the Metropolitan 
and Welsh Honeijmoon in Smart Set. Acknowledg- 
ment would not be complete without reference to 
one whose unfailing appreciation, also, for The Merry 
Merry Cuckoo has been a constant inspiration — Doctor 
Richard Burton, Ex-President of the Drama League of 
America. 

Jeannette Marks 

Attic Peace 

South Hadley, Massachusetts. 

November U* 1916. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface vii 

The Merry Merry Cuckoo 1 

The Deacon's Hat 25 

Welsh Honeymoon 65 



PRONUNCIATION OF WELSH NAMES 

1 ch has, roughly, the same sound as in German or in 

the Scotch loch. 
^ dd = Enghsh th, roughly, in hresithe. 

3 e has, roughly, the sound of ai in dairy. 

4 /= English v. 

5 ^= English sharp/. 

6 II represents a sound intermediate between the SLndfl, 

7 w as a consonant is pronounced as in English; as 

a vowel = 00. 
S y is sometimes like u in bwt, sometimes like ee in 
green. 

Note: The author vnll gladly answer questions abotd pronunciation, 
costuming, etc., etc. 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 



CHARACTERS 

Annie, the wife of David. 

David. 

LowRY Prichard 1 . , , 

^ -r, r ^^wo neighbors. 

GuTO Prichard J ° 

Morris, a young minister. 



ACT I 

A garden. Cottage at back running from right to center. 
A group of three windows in the shape of a hay^ showing 
a bed inside and an old man lying on it. A door leads 
into cottage. A gate in fence on the right side leads to the 
road and village beyond. All of the left side of stage a 
garden and orchard, with a path through it to a gate in 
wall at back; garden wall to left, at back over it village 
chapel from which the church music comes. 

A thatched cottage with whitewashed walls. Ivy is 
growing about the doorway, and hanging from the thatch 
above the door; fuchsia bushes on either side of door; 
trees to the left in garden, including holly and yew; green 
grass; mountains beyond cottage and garden and chapel. 
In the foreground, to right by cottage door, is a washtub. 

It is about six o^ clock, the first Monday in April. To- 
wards end of act the sun sets. 

At rise of curtain, windows of the cottage closed, and 
Annie, old, very plump, with sparse gray hair escaping 
from under her white cap and damp on her forehead from 
work, and wearing a short skirt, apron, fichu over shoulders, 
clogs on her feet, is washing. Church music ojff left con- 
tinues a minute after rise of curtain. David calls out. 
Annie leaves the tub and hurries to the windows to open 
them from the outside. David, a very old man, with 
white hair and thin face, is seen lying in bed. 
DAVID (calling) 

Annie, Annie! 



6 THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

ANNIE (opening windows) 

Aye, lad dear, I was listenin' for ye; yiss, yiss, an' 
expectin' ye to call. 

DAVID (sleepily) 

I was dreamin' an' — dear, dear, what a dream ! It 
seemed like fifty years ago when we were married, 
an*, you remember, we stood out there in the garden 
that first night. Are there any violets bloomin* yet? 

ANNIE 

Not yet, Davy lad. 

DAVID 

An' the marsh marigolds? 

ANNIE 

I'm thinkin' they're sure to be out. 

DAVID 

An' that same night, Annie, do ye remember we 
heard the cuckoo singin'? 

ANNIE 

Aye, lad darlin', fifty years ago this comin' week, 
an' a cuckoo singin' to us every spring since then. 
(Annie takes a tumbler from the sill and gives him a 
spoonfid of medicine) Take this, dear; there, 'twill 
be makin' ye better. 
DAVID (taking medicine) 
An' well? 

ANNIE 

Yiss, yiss, better. 

DAVID 

But the cuckoo, will the cuckoo be singin' soon? 
ANNIE (words inconclusive) 

Lad, dear, no more, or ye'U be havin' an attack an' — 
Dear people, chapel is out, an' I hear them on the road! 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 7 

DAVID {plaintively) 
The Monday meetin'. Why have ye not been? 

ANNIE 

Work is keepin* me home, lad. 

DAVID 

But, Annie, ye've not said a word of the cuckoo. 

ANNIE {sending her voice up as cheerfully as she can) 
Aye, the cuckoo; yiss, the cuckoo — 

DAVID {clasping and unclasping his hands) 
Has it come? Did ye hear it? 

ANNIE {gulping) 

David, dear, if ye'd but Hsten to what I was a-goin' 
to say. I was a-goin' to say that IVe not heard the 
cuckoo yet, but that everythin's over-early this 
spring in Wales, an* I'm expectin' to hear one any 
time now.^ 'Tis so warm there might be one singin' 
at dusk to-day — there might be! 

DAVID {brightening) 
Might there be, Annie? 

ANNIE {smoothing his head vnth her hand) 

Aye, lad. Hush, lad, they're singin' in the chapel! 
Z.8he stands there with one hand resting on his forehead^ 
listening to the singing of Penlan, a hymn by David 
Jenkins. When the music stops, she moves away, 

DAVID 

Tis over-early, an', Annie — 

ANNIE 

Davy dear, be still ! Pastor Morris says — Tut, tut, 
I'll close the window, for there comes that Lowry 
Prichard and her man. 

Z^Annie closes windows hastily and goes bach to her 
washing. Enter from right Lowry and her husband 



8 THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

GutOy coming from the Monday prayer meeting and 
carrying hymnals. Lowry dressed in Welsh costume, 
clogs, short full skirt, striped apron, white sleeves from 
elbow to wrist, tight bodice, shawl over her shoulders, 
white cap, and tall, Welsh beaver hat. Guto, Welsh 
beaver hat on like his wife's, striped vest, brass buttons 
on lapels of black cloth coat, long, somewhat tight 
trousers. At sight of washtub and Annie busy over it, 
Lowry and Guto make gestures of shocked dismay to 
each other. 

LOWRY 

Good evenin', Annie Dalben. 
ANNIE {wiping her wet hand on her apron) 

Good evenin', Lowry Prichard, an' to you, Guto. 

GUTO 

Good evenin', mum. 

LOWRY 

How is your man? 

ANNIE 

He's no better. 

LOWRY 

Is he worse? 

ANNIE 

Nay. 

LOWRY 

We missed ye, Annie Dalben. 

GUTO 

Aye, we did. Why were ye not at meetin'? 

ANNIE 

I've my man to mind these days. 
LOWRY {triumphantly) 

But ye said he was no worse, ye did. 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 9 



ANNIE 

Aye, I did, but I cannot leave him alone. 

GUTO 

But ye're neglectin' chapel an' forgettin' the Lord, 
Annie Dalben. Ye'll go quite on the downfall, like 
this. 

LOWRY 

Aye, yeVe not been to meetings, an' 'tis bad when 
he's dyin' for ye to forget your Lord. Is he in there.? 
ANNIE {moving protectingly nearer the closed window) 
Yiss. 

LOWRY 

Why were ye washin'.?* 

ANNIE 

Ye've no cause to ask that — ye know. Except I 
did the washin', what would there be for me to care 
for David with — now that he needs me? 

GUTO 

Yiss, but ye could do it on some other day. 

ANNIE 

Nay, for the ladies are waitin' now for what they've 
given me to do — an' they so kind. 

LOWRY 

I see Pastor Morris comin' in. 

ANNIE 

Aye, he's comin' every day an' some days bringin' 
me the food from his own table for my man. 
ZEnter Pastor Morris, young, earnest and rather 
severe because of his youth, 
LOWRY (the inquisitional look on her face deepening, 
and her voice growing more shrill, pointing to Annie) 
Ye see, sir, what Annie Dalben's been doin' while 



10 THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

we were in meetin.' She's needin* a sermon, aye, 
that she is. 

GUTO 

She's goin' quite on the downfall, sir. 

ANNIE 

Lowry Prichard, ye've no cause to speak so about 
me. When was I ever absent when my man was 
well. 5^ But now, sir, {turning to Morris) as ye know, 
he's ill an' needin' me an' all the s'illin's I can earn. 
I cannot go away from him. 
LOWRY (speaking to Pastor Morris) 

She's needin' your advice, sir. 'Tis that she is 
needin' whatever. Warn her well. 

GUTO 

Yiss, an' rebuke her. 

LOWRY 

Ye're young, sir, but ye're the instrument of the 
Lord whatever. 'Tis your duty to bring her back 
to her conscience. 

GUTO 

Amen. 

\iLowry and Guto go off very self-righteous and looking 
triumphantly at Annie, who, quiet, her face pale and 
weary, turns to her washing and rubs and rinses dili- 
gently while the minister is talking. 
MORRIS (gently) 

I've been troubled, for I knew that it would come 
to this, Annie. I should have spoken with you 
before about going to chapel. Some one could be 
found to stay with David while you were at meet- 
ing. You have not been to chapel for a month, 
Annie. 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 11 

ANNIE (continuing her work but in her voice the attitude 
of the older woman towards the young man) 
Ye're very kind, sir, to take the interest, but I*m 
thinkin' ye cannot understand. There's been no 
occasion, sir, for ye to understand through what 
I've been goin' these days. 

ZShe rubs her sleeve across her tear-filled eyes and con- 
tinues washing sturdily. 

MORRIS 

Yes, but, Annie, what is David thinking? Does he 
want you to stay away from the meetings where you 
have always been together.? 

ANNIE 

Nay, sir. 

MORRIS 

Has he spoken of your staying away.? 

ANNIE (reluctantly) 
Aye, sir, he asked this evenin' why I was not in 
meetin'. 

MORRIS (reflectively) 

He did. Well, I am thinking that — 

ANNIE (dropping her work and speaking as if worried) 
Nay, sir, I've no cause to excuse myself to ye — ye're 
naught but a lad. 'Tis past your knowledge how my 
man is everythin' to me — everythin', he is. He's 
been such a husband as no one but myself can know, 
thinkin' of me all the time, livin' for me, as gentle 
an' tender to me as if I had been a child, an' now, sir, 
he's ill — he may be dyin', an' I can think of nothin' 
but doin' everythin' for — (David taps on window 
and Annie turns to open it) Aye, lad dear, 'Tis the 
Pastor comin' to see ye again. 



12 THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

DAVID {smiling and holding out one weak old hand) 
Good evenin', sir, such a grand day, with spring 
everywhere. We've been expectin' the cuckoo, sir 
— the wife and I. Have ye heard the cuckoo, yet, 
Annie? 

MORRIS (starting to speak) 
'Twill be a fortnight be — 

ANNIE (interrupting hurriedly) 

Nay, lad dear, I've been busy, but I'm thinkin' I'm 
likely to hear it now any moment — aye, any mo- 
ment. 

MORRIS 

But, Annie, the cuckoo doesn't — 

ANNIE 

Tut, sir, I could almost promise the cuckoo would 
be singin' at sundown whatever — aye, indeed, lad 
darlin'. Now I'll — 
DAVID (interrupting) 

Annie, ye mind that baby cuckoo we saw the sky- 
lark a-feedin' that first spring in Blaen Cwm.^ It 
all comes back so clear now an' clearer every moment. 
I'd not once thought of it, sir, since then. 

MORRIS 

But, David, the — 
ANNIE (speaking to David and closing the windows) 

Lie down, lad darlin', an' be quiet. I'll call ye, if 

the cuckoo sings. 

Zin the distance the choir can be heard practising Cariad, 

a revival hymn, in the chapel. Continues until Annie 

is alone and talking to herself. 
MORRIS (severely) 

But, Annie, you know the cuckoo will not sing at 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 13 

least for another fortnight. It is mid-April before 
the cuckoo sings. 

ANNIE {wearily) 
Aye, sir. 

MORRIS 

Why did you say that to David.^ 

ANNIE 

He's achin', sir, to hear the cuckoo sing, an' I'm 
wantin' to comfort him. 

MORRIS 

But, Annie, it is a lie to say what you did to him. 
ANNIE {vigorously) 

Aye, sir, but I'm not carin' whatever. 
MORRIS {severely) 

Not caring about telling a lie? 

ANNIE 

Nay, sir, I'm not carin' about anythin' but makin' 
him happy. 

MORRIS {rebukingly) 

Annie! {Annie continues washing and does not reply) 
Annie! Well, indeed, Annie, if there is nothing I 
can do for you, and you will not listen to me, I must 
be going to choir practice. I promised to be there 
this evening. 

ANNIE {without turning from the tub) 

Aye, sir. {Pastor Morris off through garden path to 
choir practice. Goes to left. Annie continues washing 
until he is well out of sight. She stands up straight 
and looks about the garden) He's wantin' to hear the 
cuckoo more nor anythin' else, dear, dear! Every- 
where 'tis green now, an' the lilies will be here before 



14 THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

long — but lad, lad, the cuckoo, will it come? {She 
goes to left into garden, the wet clothes in a basket under 
her arm, and stands there, looking about) *Twas over 
there it laid its egg in the robin's nest this year ago 
in May — aye, an' one poor little bird pushed the 
other out, an' ye picked it up, lad dear, an' were so 
tender with it. An' they're not wantin' ye, Davy, 
my old lad darlin', to think the cuckoo will be singin' 
soon. Dear God, is there to be no cuckoo singin' 
for the lad again? Just once more, dear God, to 
sing to him and comfort him? Aye! just the one 
song? No cuckoo? Aye, there will be a cuckoo 
singin', there shall be a cuckoo singin'! {She looks 
towards the closed windows behind which David lies, 
and 'puts down her basket of clothes) He's asleep! 
Hush, I'll be the cuckoo! He'll wake an' think the 
spring has really come. Here by this tree. They're 
in the chapel, an' they'll never know. {Throughout 
this scene, until Lowry speaks, a cuckoo song is being 
played very softly. And it is into a few notes of this, 
several times repeated, that Annie swings when she 
actually sings her cuckoo song. She opens her mouth 
to begin, a look of appealing misery on her face) 'Twas 
somethin' Hke this : Coo-o. Coo-ol Tut, that sounds 
like a hen. I know, it goes over an' over again, sing- 
song, sing-song, like this: cu-cu, cu-cu. Aye, that's 
better. {She rocks herself backwards and forwards 
practising it and repeating cu-cu, cu-cu) 'Tis growin' 
better, but lad, lad, I'm plannin' to deceive ye what- 
ever! {Brushes tears away impatiently and begins 
song again) Cucu-cu, cucu-cu, cucucu-cu, cu! Aye, 
that's fair; aye, 'tis fine! He'll not know me from a 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 15 

real cuckoo. I'll try it loud now, for ye've no long, 
dearie. 

l^She holds eagerly on to tree beside her, so lost in the 
cuckoo music that she is not aware of a head popping 
up behind the garden wall and down again. She draws 
a long breath and begins, softly , slowly y the song sound- 
ing as if it came from a distance. She waits a moment, 

— the heads are well above the wall now in amazement, 

— and then sings more loudly, making the song sound 
as if it came from the garden where she is standing. 

DAVID (calling) 
Annie! 

ANNIE {hurrying to open his windows) 
Aye, lad dear, I'm comin*. 

DAVID (ecstatically) 
Annie, Annie, dear, I heard the cuckoo singin'; I 
was dreamin' again, an' all at once I heard the cuckoo 
singin' in the garden, loud and clear. It sang three 
times; first, it sounded like somethin' else, 'twas so 
breathless; then it sang quiet an' sweet like a cuckoo; 
an' the third time it seemed comin' from the old 
mill wheel. 

ANNIE 

But, lad darlin', ye've heard it, an' I'm that glad! 
Three times; yiss, yiss, 'tis a real fine cuckoo. Now 
ye're happy, darlin', an' ye'll sleep well upon it. 
DAVID (disappointedly) 
Did ye no hear it? 

ANNIE 

I'm thinkin' I did an' thinkin' I didn't. 

DAVID 

Where were ye? 



16 THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

ANNIE 

Out in the garden, hangin' out the clothes. 
DAVID (still more disappointedly) 
An' ye didn't hear it? 

ANNIE 

I'm no certain, darHn'; I heard somethin* — I did, 
indeed. 
DAVID (proudly) 

'Twas the cuckoo, Annie dear; I'm hearin' it first 
every year; ye must be growin' deaf. 

ANNIE 

Yiss, yiss. Now go to sleep, an' I'll call ye if I hear 
the cuckoo sing. 

DAVID 

Will it sing again.? 

ANNIE 

Aye, darlin', if ye heard it once, 'tis sure to sing again. 

DAVID 

I'll be gettin' well, Annie, is it not so? 
ANNIE (turning away suddenly) 

Indeed, lad dear, ye'll be about among the heather 

'fore long. 
DAVID (speaking quietly, almost to himself) 

To think the cuckoo's singin' — singin' for me! 

ANNIE 

Aye, aye; now go to sleep. 

\^He lies back and closes his eyes obediently. Annie, 
drying her eyes on her apron, goes to left towards her 
basket of clothes. She stands by the tree where she had 
sung the cuckoo song for David, unconscious that two 
people are head and shoulders above the garden wall, 
looking at her. 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 17 

LOWRY (in a loud voice) 
So ye've come back, Annie Dalben, to sing the 
cuckoo again. 

GUTO 

Aye, we heard ye singin' the cuckoo. 

LOWRY 

Pooh, 'tis a pretty cuckoo ye make, an old woman 
like you, an' a pretty song! 

ANNIE 

Lowry Prichard, have a care! 

GUTO 

'Tis over -early for the cuckoo, is it not? 

ANNIE 

Yiss. 

GUTO 

An* what are ye singin' in your garden for, an' 
David dyin'.f* 

\_Annie does not reply but stoops to her basket of clothes 
and begins to hang them out. 

LOWRY 

So ye'll give no answer.? Well, indeed, maybe ye'll 

answer Pastor Morris. Aye, Guto, go fetch the 

Pastor. 

[^Guto goes off to left^ through garden gate in garden 

walL 
LOWRY (going towards the windows behind which David 
lies) 

'Tis a godly song ye've sung, Annie, an' a tale for 

the chapel, eh? 
ANNIE (following and stepping in front of Lowry) 

Ye may go out of this garden, an' that this 

minute ! 



IB THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

LOWRY {making her way nearer and nearer the window) 
Nay, nay, I'm a-goin' to speak with David an' tell 
him he's a cuckoo for a wife. Tut, ye look fair crazy, 
Annie, crazy with wrath! Your hair is all rumpled, 
an' your smock is dirty. David, bein' a cuckoo is — 
[_But the taunt is left unfinished, for at that moment 
young Morris comes in hastily, Guto following. 

MORRIS {authoritatively) 

Annie! Lowry! Annie, is this I hear true? Have 
you been imitating the cuckoo? 

ANNIE 

Aye, sir. 

MORRIS {turning to Lowry and Guto) 
You may go. Leave this to me. 
[Guto and Lowry go of right, through front gate, star' 
ing in at David as they pass, 

MORRIS {sternly) 

So, Annie, you have been acting the cuckoo — acting 
a lie. With this lie upon you, how will it be with 
salvation? 

ANNIE {hotly) 

Salvation, sir? I've no mind to your salvation; no, 
nor to heaven's, if the Lord makes this singin' a lie! 
I'm thinkin' of David as I've thought of him these 
fifty years, years before ye were born, sir, an' if 
a lie will make him happy when he's dyin', then 
I'm willin' to lie, an' do it every minute of the 
day. 

MORRIS 

That means you are wilUng to sin? 

ANNIE 

Aye, sir, to sin. I'm a willin' sinner! 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 19 



MORRIS {more gently) 

You are overwrought, Annie. 

ANNIE (wearily) 

Ye 're all against me, sir. 

MORRIS 

Nay, nay, but wouldn't it be better if I were to tell 

David about the cuckoo? 
ANNIE (sobbing) 

Oh, no, no, no, sir! Not that! 
MORRIS (stretching out his hand to comfort her) 

Annie, there, there, you mustn't cry so. 

ANNIE 

'Tis all the happiness he's got, an' he's goin*. Oh, 
my lad, my lad! 

MORRIS 

There, there, Annie! 

ANNIE 

We've been married fifty years this spring, an' every 
spring we've listened for the cuckoo an' not one 
missed. An' now he's a-dyin' an' a-wantin' to hear 
it so, an' 'twas over-early, an' then I thought of bein' 
the cuckoo myself. Oh, Davy, Davy darlin'! 
MORRIS (altogether forgetting his pastoral severity) 

There, Annie, there, dear, tell me about it! We'll 
see, Annie. 

ANNIE 

There's no more. Only he kept askin' about the 
spring, the violets an' marsh marigolds, an' I knew 
all the time he was thinkin' of the cuckoo an' not 
askin' because he was goin' an' mightn't hear it. An' 
then he did. An' I said I thought he'd hear one this 



20 THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

evenin', that everythin* was over-early whatever. 
After that he seemed happier than I'd seen him, an' 
I closed his windows an' went off into the garden to 
practise it. I worked at it till I could do it fair. 
Oh, Davy, Davy lad! 

MORRIS 

Now, Annie dear, don't cry, just tell me more. 

AKNIB 

Then, sir, I sang the song here by this tree, an' when 
he called me to him, there was such a look of joy on 
his face as has not been there this long time. 'Tis 
the last happiness I can give him, sir. 
DAVID (calling) 
Annie, Annie! 

ANNIE 

He's callin'. Aye, lad dear, I'm comin'. 

[^She goes into cottage and, after opening all the windows, 

stands by the foot of David* s bed. 

DAVID 

Have ye heard the cuckoo singing'.? 

ANNIE 

No, not yet. It must be singin' again soon. 
DAVID (anxiously) 

Ye're sure 'tis goin* to sing? 
ANNIE (gathering him up and turning his pillow) 

Indeed, yiss, an' with the windows all open, ye'll be 

hearin' it fine an' clear, ye will. I'll go back up into 

the garden to see is the cuckoo there. 

DAVID 

Will it be singin' over an' over again, the way it did 
that first time.? 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 21 

ANNIE 

Aye, I'm thinkin' so, lad darlin'. Ye must listen 
quietly. 

DAVID 

'Twas so beautiful singin'. I'd like hearin' it with 
ye here beside me. 

ANNIE (kissing him) 
I'll come back, lad. 

DAVID. 

Aye, I'll be waitin' for ye. 

Z Annie goes out of the cottage door and back into garden 
where Pastor Morris is standing, his hat off, while 
Annie and David are talking together. He can see 
them both, but David cannot see him, Annie and 
Morris converse in whispers. The cuckoo song begins 
to be played softly, 

MORRIS 

Is he worse? 

ANNIE (looking at Morris beseechingly) 

I cannot tell, sir, but he's longin' to hear the cuckoo 
sing again. 

MORRIS 

I see and you are wishing to do it again? 

ANNIE 

Yiss, an' with the lad dyin', can ye tell me not to do 
what Davy is askin' for? Each time might be his 
last, sir. 

MORRIS (after a momenfs hesitation) 

Nay, go sing for him. I will stand guard for you, 
and no one shall disturb you. 



n THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO 

ANNIE (a deep sigh of relief) 

Oh, sir, thank you! 'Tis sure to be a comfort. But 
ye're harmin' your conscience for me, sir, areye? 

MORRIS (humbly) 

I'm not saying, Annie; I'm over-young to have a 
conscience in some things. 

ANNIE (taking his hand to kiss it) 

May God bless ye, sir, for bein' kind to an old woman ! 
\^The sun has set behind the Chapel, and it is rapidly 
growing dark as the music grows louder, Morris steps 
back to the garden gate to keep watch. Annie stands 
by the tree and, dropping her hands by her side, lifting 
her head, and swaying her old body to and fro, sings 
the cuckoo song over and over again three times. David 
has risen in bed, an expression of rapturous delight 
upon his face as he leans against the casement listening. 
The lights are being lighted in the chapel, and the chapel 
bell begins to ring. 

DAVID (calling faintly) 

Annie, Annie darlin', come quickly, the cuckoo's 
singin' ! 

ANNIE (hastening towards him) 
Yiss, lad, I'm comin'. 

DAVID (stretching out his hands towards her) 

Annie, sweetheart, did ye hear the cuckoo singin'? 

ANNIE 

Yiss, dearie, loud and clear. 
DAVID (trying to imitate its song while his voice grows 

fainter) 

It sang over an' over like this — 
ANNIE (within the cottage and beside David) 

Yiss, dear, I see. 



THE MERRY MERRY CUCKOO S3 



DAVID (sinking back into her arms) 
An' — it — was — quiet — but — Annie — 

ANNIE (holding him to her and crying out) 

Lad, lad dear, Davy, can ye not speak to me? 
IThe bell for chapel stops ringing. The organ playing 
'* Jesus, Lover of my SouV is heard. Morris is stand- 
ing by the gate, facing towards the old people, his hat 
off, his head bowed. 



CURTAIN 



THE DEACON'S HAT 



CHARACTERS 

Deacon Roberts, a stout, oldish Welshman. 

Hugh Williams, an earnest visionary young man who 

owns Y Gegin. 
Neli Williams, his capable wife. 
Mrs. Jones, the Wash, a stout kindly woman who 

wishes to buy soap. 
Mrs. Jenkins, the Midwife, after pins for her latest 

baby. 
Tom Morris, the Sheep, who comes to buy tobacco 

and remains to pray. 



THE DEACON'S HAT 

Scene: A little shop called Y Gegin (The Kitchen) 
in Bala, North Wales. 

Time: Monday morning at half -past eleven. 

To the right is the counter of Y Gegin^ set out with a 
bountiful supply of groceries; behind the counter are 
grocery-stocked shelves. Upon the counter is a good-sized 
enamel-ware bowl filled with herring pickled in brine and 
leek, also a basket of fresh eggs, a jar of pickles, some 
packages of codfish, a half dozen loaves of bread, a big 
round cheese, several pounds of butter wrapped in print 
paper, etc., etc. 

To the left are a cheerful gloiving fire and ingle. 

At the back center is a door; between the door and the 
fire stands a grandfather^ s clock with a shining brass face. 
Between the clock and the door, back center, is a small 
tridarn [Welsh dresser'^ and a chair. From the rafters 
hang flitches of bacon, hams, bunches of onions, herbs, 
etc. On either side of the fireplace are latticed windows, 
showing a glimpse of the street. Before the fire is a small, 
round three-legged table, beside it a tall straight-backed 
chair. 

Between the table and left is a door which is the en- 
trance to Y Gegin and from which, on a metal elbow, 
dangles a large bell. 

At rise of curtain Hugh Williams enters at back center, 
absorbed in reading a volume of Welsh theological essays. 
He is dressed in a brightly striped vest, a short, heavy 



so THE DEACON'S HAT 

cloth coaty cut away in front and with lapels trimmed with 
brass buttons, swallowtails behind, also trimmed with 
brass buttons, stock wound around his neck, and tight 
trousers down to his boot tops. 

Neli Williams, his wife, a comely, capable young 
woman, busy with her knitting every instant she talks, 
is clad in her market costume, a scarlet cloak and a tall 
black Welsh beaver. Over her arm is an immense basket. 
NELI (commandingly) 

Hughie, put down that book! 
HUGH (still going on reading) 
Haven't I just said a man is his own master, what- 
ever! 

NELI 

Hughie, ye're to mind the shop while I'm gone! 
HUGH (patiently) 
Yiss, yiss. 

NELI. 

I don't think ye hear a word I am sayin' whatever. 

HUGH 

Yiss, I hear every word ye're sayin'. 

NELI 

What is it then? 
HUGH (weakly) 

'T is all about — about — the — the weather what- 
ever! 

NELI 

Ye've not heard a word, an' ye're plannin' to read 
that book from cover to cover, I can see. 
HUGH (a little too quickly) 
Nay, I have no plans . . . 
[He tucks book away in back coat pocket over-hastily. 



THE DEACON'S HAT 31 

NELI 

Hugh! 
HUGH (weakly) 

Nay, I have no plans whatever! 
NELI (reproachfully) 

Hugh — iel 'T would be the end of sellin' anythin' 

to anybody if I leave ye with a book whatever! Give 

me that book! 
HUGH (obstinately) 

Nay, I'll no read the book. 

NELI 

Give me that book! 
HUGH (rising a little) 

Nay. I say a man is his own master whatever! 
NELI (finding the book hidden in his coat-tail pocket) 

Is he? Well, I'll no leave ye with any masterful 

temptations to be readin'. 

HUGH 

YeVe no cause to take this book away from me. 
NELI (opens book and starts with delight) 

'Tis Deacon Roberts's new book on "The Flamin' 
Wickedness of Babylon." Where did ye get it? 

HUGH (reassured by her interest) 

He lent it to me this morning. 
NELI (resolutely) 

Well, I will take it away from ye this noon till I am 

home again whatever! 
HUGH (sulkily) 

Sellin' groceries is not salvation. They sold groceries 

in Babylon; Deacon Roberts says so. 



THE DEACON'S HAT 



NELi {looking at book with ill-disguised eagerness) 

I dunno as anybody ever found salvation by givin' 

away all he had for nothin'! 'Tis certain Deacon 

Roberts has not followed that way. 
HUGH {still sulkily) 

A man is his own master, I say. 
NELI {absent-mindedly, her nose in the book) 

Is he? Well, indeed! 
HUGH {crossly) 

Aye, he is. {Pointedly) An' I was not plannin* to 

give away the book whatever. 
NELI {closing volume with a little sigh as for stolen de- 

lights and speaking busily) 

An' I am not talkin' about acceptin' books but about 

butter an' eggs an' cheese an' all the other groceries! 

HUGH 

Aye, ye'U get no blessin' from such worldliness. 
NELI {absent-mindedly) 

Maybe not, but ye will get a dinner from that un- 
blessed worldliness an' find no fault, I'm thinkin'. 
{Her hand lingering on the book which she opens) But 
such wonderful theology! An' such eloquence! 
Such an understandin' of sin ! Such glowin' pictures 
of Babylon! 

HUGH 

Aye, hot ! I tell ye, Neli, there's no man in the parish 
has such a gift of eloquence as Deacon Roberts or 
such theology. In all Wales ye'U not find stronger 
theology than his. 

NELI 

Ye have no need to tell me that! {Looking for a 
flace in which to hide the book until she returns) Have 



THE DEACON'S HAT 33 

I not a deep an' proper admiration for theology? 
Have I not had one minister an' five deacons an' a 
revivalist in my family, to say nothin' at all of one 
composer of hymns? 

HUGH 

Yiss, yiss. Aye, 't is a celebrated family. I am no 
sayin' anythin' against your family. 

NBLI 

Then what? 
HUGH (pleadingly) 
Deacon Roberts has great fire with which to save 
souls. We're needin' that book on Babylon's wicked- 
ness. Give it back to me, Neli! 

NELI 

Oh, aye! (Looks at husband) I'm not sayin' but 
that ye are wicked, Hugh, an' needin' these essays, 
for ye have no ministers and deacons and hymn com- 
posers among your kin. 

HUGH (triumphantly) 
Aye, aye, that's it! That's it! An' the more need 
have I to read till my nostrils are full of the smoke 
of — of Babylon. 

NELI (absent-mindedly tucking book away on shelf as 
she talks) 

Aye, but there has been some smoke about Deacon 
Roberts's reputation which has come from some fire 
less far away than Babylon. 

HUGH 

What smoke? 
NELI (evasively) 

Well, I am thinkin' about my eggs which vanished 
one week ago to-day. There was no one in that 



S4. THE DEACON'S HAT 

mornin' but Deacon Roberts. Mrs. Jones the Wash 

had come for her soap an' gone before I filled that 

basket with eggs. 
HUGH (watching her covertly, standing on tiptoe and 

craning his neck as she stows away book) 

Yiss, yiss! 
NELi (slyly) 

Ask Deacon Roberts if cats steal eggs whatever.'* 
HUGH (repeating) 

If cats steal eggs, if cats steal eggs. 

NELI 

Aye, not if eggs steal cats. 
HUGH (craning neck) 

Yiss, yiss, if eggs steal cats! 

NELI 

Hugh — ie! Now ye'll never get it correct again! 
'T is if cats steal eggs. 
HUGH (sulkily) 
Well, I'm no carin' about cats with heaven starin' 
me in the face. 

£Neli turns about swiftly with the quick sudden motions 
characteristic of her, and Hugh shrinks into himself. 
She shakes her finger at him and goes over to kiss him, 

NELI 

Hughie lad, ye're not to touch the book while I am 
gone to market. 

HUGH 

Nay, nay, certainly not! 

NELI 

And ye're to be on the lookout for Mrs. Jones the 
Wash, for Mrs. Jenkins the Midwife — Jane Elin 
has a new baby, an' it'll be needin' somethin'. (Point- 



THE DEACON'S HAT 35 

ing to counter) Here is every thin' plainly marked. 
Ye're no to undersell or give away any thin'. D' ye 
hear? 

HUGH 

Aye, I hear! 

NELI 

An' remember where the tobacco is, for this is the 
day Tom Morris the Sheep comes in. 

HUGH 

Aye, in the glass jar. 

NELI 

Good-by. I will return soon. 
HUGH (indifferently) 

Good-by. 

[^Neli leaves by door at back center. Immediately Hugh 

steals towards the shelves where she hid the book, 
NELI (thrusting head back in) 

Mind, Hughie lad, no readin' — nay, not even any 

theology ! 
HUGH (stepping quickly away from shelves and repeating 

parrot-like) 

Nay, nay, no readin', no sermons, not even any 

theology ! 

NELI 

An' no salvation till I come back ! 
l^She smiles, withdraws head, and is gone. Hugh starts 
forward, collides clumsily with the counter in his eager- 
ness, knocks the basket of eggs with his elbow, upsetting 
it. Several eggs break. He shakes his head ruefully 
at the mess and as ruefidly at the counter. He finds 
book and hugs it greedily to him. 



S6 THE DEACON'S HAT 

HUGH {mournfully) 

Look at this ! What did I say but that there was no 
salvation selHn' groceries! If Neh could but see 
those eggs ! {He goes behind counter and gets out a box 
of eggs, from which he re-Jills the basket. The broken 
eggs he leaves untouched upon the floor. He opens his 
volume of sermons and seats himself by a little three- 
legged table near the fire. He sighs in happy anticipa- 
tion. Hearing a slight noise, he looks suspiciously at 
door, gets up, tiptoes across floor to street door, and 
locks it quietly. An expression of triumph overspreads 
his face) Da, if customers come, they will think no 
one is at home whatever, an' I can read on! {He 
seats himself at little three-legged table, opens volume, 
smooths over its pages lovingly, and begins to read 
slowly and halting over syllables) The smoke of Ba-by- 
lon was hot — scorchin' hot. An' 'twas filled with 
Ba-ba-ba-baal stones, slimy an' scorchin' hot also — 
\_There is the sound of feet coming up the shop steps, 
followed by a hand trying the door knob. Hugh looks 
up from his sermons, an expression of innocent triumph 
on his face. The door knob is tried again, the door 
rattled. 
Then some one rings the shop doorbell. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH {calling) 

Mrs. Williams, mum, have ye any soap? {No 
answer. Calling) Mrs. Williams! Mrs. Williams! 
{Hugh nods approvingly and lifts his volume to read. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Where are they all whatever? I will just look in at 
the window. {A large kindly face is anxiously flat- 
tened against the window. At that Hugh drops in con- 



THE DEACON'S HAT 37 

sternation under the three-legged table) Uch, what's 
that shadow skippin' under the table? No doubt a 
rat after the groceries. Mrs. WilHams, mum, Mrs. 
WiUiams! Well, indeed they're out. 
{She pounds once more on the door with a heavy fist, 
rings, and then goes. Suddenly the door hack center 
opens, and Neli Williams appears. 
NELi (she does not see Hugh and peers around for him) 
What is all that bell-ringing about? 
[Hugh crawls out from under table. 

HUGH 

Hush, she' gone! 
NELI {amazed and whispering to herself) 

Under the table! 
HUGH {rising and putting up his hand as a sign for her 

to keep sileiit) 

Nay, 't was Mrs. Jones the Wash come to buy her 

soap whatever! 

NELI 

Aye, well, why didn't she come in whatever? 

HUGH {whispering) 

I locked the door, Neli, so I could finish readin' those 
essays whatever! An' then she looked in at the 
window, an' I had to get under the table. 

NELI {indignantly) 

Locked the door against a customer, an' after all I 
said! An' crawled under a table! Hugh Williams, 
your wits are goin' quite on the downfall! 

HUGH {in a whisper) 

Aye, but Neli, those essays — an' I thought ye had 
gone to market. 



38 THE DEACON'S HAT 

NELI 

I had started, but I came back for my purse. Put 
down that book! 

HUGH 

Aye, but, Neli — 
NELI (angrily) 

Much less of heaven an' much more of earth is what 
I need in a husband! Ye have sent away a customer; 
very Hke Mrs. Jones the Wash after soap will go else- 
where. 

HUGH 

Aye, but, Neli . . . 

\^Steps are heard approaching. 

NELI 

Get up ! Some one is coming. 
[Hugh gets up very unwillingly. 

HUGH {whispering still) 
Aye, but, Neli . . . 

NELI (angrily) 

Put down that book, I say! (She crunches over some 
eggshells) Eggs? Broken? 

HUGH (putting down book) 

Aye, Neli, my elbow an' the eggs in Babylon . . . 

NELI (sarcastically) 

Aye, I see beasts in Babylon here together, — dole- 
ful creatures smearin' one an' sixpence worth of eggs 
all over the floor. An' a half dozen eggs gone last 
week. (Wiping up eggs) An' I'm to suppose Baby- 
lon had something to do with that half dozen eggs, 
too? They were put in the basket after Mrs. Jones 
the Wash had left whatever, an' before Deacon 
Roberts came. 



THE DEACQN^S HAT S9 

HUGH 

Neli, I did not say . . . 

NELi (still angrily) 

Well, indeed, unlock that door! 

HUGH (going to unlock door) 
But, Neli . . . 

NELI (disappearing through door bach center) 

Not a word ! Your mind has gone quite on the down- 
fall — lockin* doors against your own bread and 
butter an* soap. 

HUGH (unlocking door sullenly) 

But, Neli, salvation an' soap . . . 
NELI (snappily) 

Salvation an' soap are as thick as thieves. 

HUGH 

But, Neli, a man is his own master. 

NELI 

Yiss, I see he is! 

[Nell goes out, slamming door noisily. 

HUGH 

Dear anwyl, she seems angry ! 

[Eugh opens street door left just as Neli goes out through 
kitchen, by door back center. Deacon Roberts enters 
the door Hugh has unlocked. He looks at Hugh, smiles, 
and goes over to counter in a businesslike way. He is a 
stout man, dressed in a black broadcloth cutaway coat, 
tight trousers, a drab vest, high collar and stock, woollen 
gloves, a muffler wound about his neck and face, and 
a tall Welsh beaver hat. Under his arm he carries 
a book. 



40 THE DEACON'S HAT 

DEACON ROBERTS {speaMug affectionately y pulling qff 
his gloves, putting down book on counter, and begin- 
ning eagerly to touch the various groceries) 
Essays on Babylon to-day, Hughie lad? 

HUGH {looking about for Neli and speaking fretfully) 
Nay. 

DEACON ROBERTS (unwinding his muffler) 

Ye look as if ye had been in spiritual struggle. 

HUGH (drearily) 
I have. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

Well, indeed, Hughie, 't is neither the angel nor the 
archfiend here now, nor for me any struggle except 
the struggle to both live an' eat well — ho! ho! 
an' eat well, I say — in Bala. (Laughs jovially) 
Ho! ho! not bad, Hughie lad, — Hve an* eat in 
Bala! 

HUGH (patiently) 

With that muffler around your head, Deacon, ye are 
enough to frighten the devil out of Babylon. 

DEACON ROBERTS (unwinding last lap of muffler) 

Yiss, yiss, Hughie lad. But I dunno but ye will 
understand better if I call myself, let us say the 
angel with the sickle — ho ! ho ! — not the angel of 
fire, Hughie, but the angel with the sharp sickle 
gatherin' the clusters of the vines of the earth. 
(Sudden change of subject) Where is Neli? 

HUGH (vacantly) 

I dunno — yiss, yiss, at market. 

DEACON ROBERTS (chuckUug) 

Dear, dear, at market — a fine day for marketing! 
An' my essays on the Flamin' Wickedness of Baby- 



THE DEACON'S HAT 41 

Ion, Hughie lad, how are they? Have ye finished 
them? 

HUGH 

Nay, not yet. 
DEACON ROBERTS (looMng ovev counter^ touching one 
article after another as he mentions it) Pickled herrin' 

— grand but wet ! Pickles — dear me, yiss, Neli's 

— an' good! Butter from Hafod-y-Porth — sweet 
as honey ! {He picks up a pat of butter and sniffs it, 
drawing in his breath loudly. He smiles with delight 
and lays down the butter. He takes off his hat and 
dusts it out inside. He puts his hat back on his head, 
smiles, chuckles, picks up butter, taps it thoughtfully 
with two fingers, smells it and puts down the pat 
lingeringly. He lifts up a loaf of Neli Williams's 
bread, glancing from it to the butter) Bread! Dear 
me! (His eyes glance on to codfish) American cod- 
fish, (picks up package and smacks his lips loudly) 
dear anwyl, with potatoes — (reads) "Gloucester.'* 

(Reaches out and touches eggs affectionately) Eggs — 
are they fresh, Hugh? 
HUGH (dreamily) 
I dunno. But I broke some of them. They might be ! 
l^Looks at floor. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

Were they fresh? 

HUGH 

I dunno. 
DEACON ROBERTS (sharply) 
Dunno? About eggs? 
[_Picks up egg. 



42 THE DEACON'S HAT 

HUGH (troubled) 

Neli*s hens laid them. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

I see, NeU's hens laid 'em, an' you broke 'em! 
Admirable arrangement! {Putting down the egg and 
turning towards the cheese, speaks on impatiently) 
Well, indeed then, were the hens fresh? 
HUGH {more cheerful) 

Yiss, I think. Last week the basket was grand an' 
full of fresh eggs, but they disappeared, aye, they 
did indeed. 

DEACON ROBERTS (starts) 

Where did they go to? 

HUGH {injured) 
How can I say? I was here, an' I would have told 
her if I had seen, but I did not whatever. Neli 
reproves me for too great attention to visions an' too 
little to the groceries. 

DEACON ROBERTS {chucMing) 

Aye, Hughie lad, such is married life! Let a man 
marry his thoughts or a wife, for he cannot have 
both. I have chosen my thoughts. 

HUGH 

But the cat — 
DEACON ROBERTS {brisJcly) 

Aye, a man can keep a cat without risk. 

HUGH 

Nay, nay, I mean the cat took 'em. I dunno. That's 
it — {Hugh clutches his head, trying to recall some- 
thing) Uch, that's it! Neli told me to remember 
to ask ye if ye thought eggs could steal a cat 
whatever. 



THE DEACON^S HAT 43 

DEACON ROBERTS (pUZzled) 

Eggs steal a cat? 

HUGH (troubled) 

Nay, nay, cats steal an egg? 

DEACON ROBERTS (startled and looking suspiciously at 
Hugh) 
Cats? What cats? 

HUGH (with solemnity) 
Aye, but I told Neli I'm no carin' about cats with 
heaven starin' me in the face. Deacon Roberts, 
those essays are grand an' wonderful. 

DEACON ROBERTS (relieved) 

Yiss, yiss! Hughie lad, theology is a means to sal- 
vation an' sometimes to other ends, too. But there's 
no money in theology. (Sighs) And a man must 
live! (Points to corroded dish of pickled herring y 
sniffing greedily) Dear people, what beautiful her- 
rin'! (Wipes moisture away from corners of his 
mouth and picks up a fish from dish, holding it, drip- 
ping, by tail) Pickled? 

HUGH (looking at corroded dish) 
Tuppence. 

DEACON ROBERTS (shortly) 

Dear to-day. 
HUGH (eyeing dish dreamily) 

I dunno. Neli — 
DEACON ROBERTS (cyes glittering, cutting straight through 

sentence and pointing to cheese) 

Cheese? 

HUGH 

A shillin', I'm thinkin'. 



44 THE DEACON'S HAT 

DEACON ROBERTS 

A shillin', Hugh? (Deacon Roberts lifts knife and 
drops it lightly on edge of cheese. The leaf it pares off 
he picks up and thrusts into his mouthy greedily push- 
ing in the crumbs. Then he pauses and looks slyly at 
Hugh) Was it sixpence ye said, Hugh? 

HUGH (gazing towards the fire and the volume of essays) 
Yiss, sixpence, I think. 

DEACON ROBERTS (sarcastically) 
Still too dear, Hugh! 

HUGH (sighing) 

I dunno, it might be dear. (With more animation) 
Deacon, when Babylon fell — 

DEACON ROBERTS (wipcs Ms mouth and, interrupting 
Hugh, speaks decisively) 

No cheese. (He removes his tall Welsh beaver hat, 
mops off his bald white head, and, pointing up to the 
shelves, begins to dust out inside of hatband again but 
with a deliberate air of preparation) What is that 
up there, Hughie lad? 

HUGH (trying to follow the direction of the big red waver- 
ing forefinger) 
Ye mean that? ABC In-fants' Food, I think. 

DEACON ROBERTS (giving his hat a final wipe) 

Nay, nay, not for me, Hughie lad ! Come, come, brush 
the smoke of burnin' Babylon from your eyes! In a 
minute I must be goin* back to my study, whatever. 
An' I have need of food! 

[Hugh takes a chair and mounts it. The Deacon looks 
at Hugh's back, puts his hand down on the counter, and 
picks up an egg from the basket. He holds it to the 
light and squints through it to see whether it is fresh. 



THE DEACON'S HAT 45 

Then he turns it lovingly over in his fat palm, makes a 

dexterous backward motion and slides it into his coat- 
tail pocket. This he follows with two more eggs for same 

coat tail and three for other — in all half a dozen. 
HUGH {dreamily pointing to tin) 

Is it Yankee corn? 
DEACON ROBERTS {to Hugh*s back and slipping in second 

egg) 

Nay, nay, not that, Hughie lad, that tin above! 
HUGH (absent-mindedly touching tin) 

Is it ox tongue? 
DEACON ROBERTS {slipping in third egg and not even 

looking up) 

Ox tongue, lad? Nay, nothin* so large as that. 
HUGH (dreamingly reaching up higher) 

American condensed m-m-milk? Yiss, that's what 

it is. 
DEACON ROBERTS {slipping in fourth egg) 

Condensed milk, Hughie? Back to infants' food 

again. 
HUGH {stretching up almost to his full length and holding 

down tin with tips of long white finger) 

Kippert herrin'? Is it that? 
DEACON ROBERTS {slipping in fifth egg) 

Nay, nay, a little further up, if you please. 
HUGH {gasping, but still reaching up and reading) 

Uto — Uto — U-to-pi-an Tinned Sausage. Is it 

that? 
DEACON ROBERTS {slipping in sixth egg with an air of 

finality and triumph, and lifting his hat from the 

counter) 

Nay, nay, not that, Hughie lad. Why do ye not 



46 THE DEACON'S HAT 

begin by askin' me what I want? Ye've no gift for 
sellin' groceries whatever. 
HUGH (surprised) 
Did I not ask ye? 

DEACON ROBERTS 

Nay. 

HUGH 

What would Neli say whatever? She would never 

forgive me. 
DEACON ROBERTS (amiably) 

Well, I forgive ye, Hughie lad. 'Tis a relish, I'm 

needin' ! 
HUGH (relieved) 

Well, indeed, a relish ! We have relishes on that shelf 

above, I think. (Reaches up but pauses helplessly) 

I must tell Neli that these shelves are not straight. 

[^Dizzy and clinging to the shelves^ his back to the 

Deacon, 
DEACON ROBERTS (picking up a pound of butter wrapped 

in print paper) 

Is it up there? 

HUGH 

No, I think, an' the shelves are not fast whatever. I 
must tell NeH. They go up Hke wings. (Trying to 
reach to a bottle just above him) Was it English or 
American? 
DEACON ROBERTS (putting the pound of butter in his 
hat and his hat on his head) 
American, Hughie lad. 

\^At that instant there is a noise from the inner kitchen^ 
and Neli Williams opens the door. The Deacon turns. 



IHE DEACON^S HAT 47 

and their glances meet and cross. Each understands 
perfectly what the other has seen. Neli Williams has 
thrown o;ff her red cloak and taken off her Welsh heaver 
hat. She is dressed in a short full skirty white stock- 
ingSy clogs on her feet, a striped apron, tight bodice, 
fichu, short sleeves, and white cap on dark hair, 

NELI (slowly) 

Uch! The Deacon has what he came for whatever! 

HUGH (turning to contradict his wife) 

Nay, Neli, — (Losing his balance on chair, tumbles 
off, and, with arm flung out to save himself, strikes dish 
of pickled herring. The herring and brine fly in every 
direction, spraying the Deacon and Hughie; the bowl 
spins madly, dipping and revolving on the floor. For 
a few seconds nothing is audible except the bowl revolv- 
ing on the flagstones and Hugh picking himself up 
and sneezing behind the counter) 
Achoo ! Achoo ! Dear me, Neh — Achoo ! 

NELI (going quickly to husband and beginning to wipe 
brine from husband" s forehead and cheeks; at the same 
time has her hack to the Deacon and forming soundless 
letters with her lip, she jerks her head towards the 
Deacon) 
B-U-T-T-E-R! 

HUGH (drearily) 
Better? Aye, I'm better. It did not hurt me 
whatever. 

NELI (jerking head backwards towards Deacon Roberts 
and again forming letters with lips) 
B-U-T-T-E-R! 

HUGH 

What, water? Nay, I don't want any water. 



48 THE DEACON'S HAT 

DEACON ROBERTS (cougMngy ill at ease and glancing 

suspiciously at bowl that has come to rest near his leg) 

Ahem! 'T is cold here, Mrs. WilHams, mum, an' I 

must be movin' on. 
NELi {savagely to Deacon) 

Stay where ye are whatever! 
DEACON ROBERTS (unoccustomed to being spoken to this 

way by a woman) 

Well, indeed, mum, I could stay, but I'm thinkin 't 

is cold an' — I'd better go. 
NELI {again savagely) 

Nay, stay ! Stay for — for what ye came for whatever ! 

[^Neli looks challengingly at the Deacon. Then she 

goes on wiping brine carefully from husband's hair 

and from behind his ears. The Deacon coughs and 

pushes bowl away with the toe of his boot. 
DEACON ROBERTS {smiUng) 

'T is unnecessary to remain then, mum. 
NELI {to Hugh) 

What did he get? 
HUGH {sneezing) 

N — n — Achoo ! — nothin' ! 
DEACON ROBERTS {with suddcn interest looking at the floor) 

Well, indeed! 
NELI {suspiciously) 

What is it? 

{He reaches doivn with difficulty to a small thick 

puddle on the floor just beneath his left coat tail. He 

aims a red forefinger at it, lifts himself, and sucks 

fingertip) 
DEACON ROBERTS {smiling) 

Ahem, Mrs. Williams, mum, 't is excellent herrin' 



THE DEACON'S HAT 49 

brine! (From the basket on the counter he picks up 

an egg which he tosses lightly and replaces in basket) 

A beautiful fresh egg, Mrs. Williams, mum. I must 

be steppin' homewards. 
HUGH (struggling to speak just as Neli reaches his nose, 

wringing it vigorously as she wipes it) 

Aye, but, Neli, I was just tellin* ye when I fell that 

I could not find the Deacon's relish — uch, achoo ! 

achoo ! 
DEACON ROBERTS (with finality, tossing the egg in air, 

catching it and putting it back in basket) 

Well, indeed, mum, I must be steppin' homewards 

now. 

[Neli's glance rests on fire burning on other side of 

room. She puts down wet cloth. She turns squarely 

on the Deacon. 

NELI 

What is your haste, Mr. Roberts? Please to go to 
the fire an' wait! I can find the relish. 

DEACON ROBERTS (hastily) 

Nay, nay, mum. I have no need any more — 
(Coughs) Excellent herrin' brine. 
\^Goes towards door. 

NELI (to Hugh) 

Take him to the fire, Hugh. 'T is a cold day what- 
ever! (Insinuatingly to Deacon) Have ye a reason 
for wantin' to go, Mr. Roberts? 

DEACON ROBERTS (going) 

Nay, nay, mum, none at all ! But, I must not trouble 
ye. 'T is too much to ask, an' I have no time to 
spare an' — 



50 THE DEACON'S HAT 

NELi (interrupting and not without acerbity) 

Indeed, Mr. Roberts, sellin' what we can is our 
profit. (To Hugh, who obediently takes Deacon by 
arm and pidls him towards fire) Take him to the 
fire, lad. (To Deacon) What kind of a relish was it, 
did ye say, Mr. Roberts.'^ 

DEACON ROBERTS (having a tug of war with Hugh) 
'T is an Indian relish, mum, but I cannot wait. 

HUGH (pulling harder) 
American, ye said. 

DEACON ROBERTS (hastily) 

Yiss, yiss, American Indian relish, that is. 

NELI 

Tut, 't is our specialty, these American Indian rel- 
ishes! We have several. Sit down by the fire while 
I look them up. (Wickedly) As ye said, Mr. 
Roberts, 't is cold here this morning. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

There, Hughie lad, I must not trouble ye. (Looks 
at clock) 'T is ten minutes before twelve, an' my 
dinner will be ready at twelve. 
[Pulls harder. 
NELI (to Hugh) 

Keep him by the fire, lad. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

There, Hughie lad, let me go! 

[But Hugh holds on, and the Deacon^s coat begins to 
come of. 
NELI (sarcastically) 

The relish — American Indian, ye said, I think, — 
will make your dinner taste fine and grand! 



_^ THE DEACON^S HAT 51 

DEACON ROBERTS {finding that without leaving his coat 

behind he is unable to go, he glowers at Hugh and 

speaks sweetly to Neli) 

'T is a beautiful clock, Mrs. Williams, mum. But I 

have n't five minutes to spare. 
NELI {keeping a sharp lookout on the rim of the Deacon's 

hat) 

Well, indeed, I can find the relish in just one minute. 

An' ye'll have abundance of time left. 
DEACON ROBERTS {trapped and gazing at clock with fine 

air of indifference) 

'T is a clever, shinin' lookin' clock whatever, Mrs. 

Williams, mum. 

NELI 

Have ye any recollection of the name of the maker of 
the relish, Mr. Roberts? 
DEACON ROBERTS {putting his hands behind him anx- 
iously and parting his freighted coat tails with care; 
then, revolving, presenting his back and one large well- 
set bright-colored patch to the fire) 
Nay, I have forgotten it, Mrs. Williams, mum. 

NELI 

Too bad, but I'm sure to find it. {She mounts upon 
chair. At this moment the shop doorbell rings violently, 
and there enters Mrs. Jones the Wash, very fat and 
very jolly. She is dressed in short skirt very full, clogs 
on her feet, a bodice made of striped Welsh flannel, a 
shabby kerchief, a cap on her head, and over this a 
shawl. Neli turns her head a little) 
Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, in a minute, if you 
please. Sit down until I find Deacon Roberts's 
relish whatever. 



52 THE DEACON'S HAT 

MRS. JONES THE WASH (sits doiDTL 071 chaiT by dooT bacJc 
center and folds her hands over her stomach) 
Yiss, yiss, mum, thank you. I've come for soap. I 
came once before, but no one was in. 

NELI 

Too bad! 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

An' I looked in at the window an' saw nothin' but a 
skippin' shadow looked like a rat. Have ye any 
rats, Mrs. Williams, mum, do ye think .^ 

NELI 

Have I any rats? Well, indeed, 't is that I'm wantin' 
to know, Mrs. Jones the Wash! 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Well, I came back, for the water is eatin' the soap 
to-day as if 'twere sweets — aye, 't is a very meltin' 
day for soap ! 
\^Laughs. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

'T is sweet to be clean, Mrs. Jones the Wash. 
MRS. JONES THE WASH {laughing) 

Yiss, yiss. Deacon Roberts, there has many a chapel 

been built out of a washtub, an' many a prayer risen 

up from the suds! 
DEACON ROBERTS {solemnly) 

Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, 't is holy work, washin' 

is very holy work. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH {tOUched) 

Yiss, yiss, I thank ye. Deacon Roberts. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

Well, I must be steppin' homeward now. 



THE DEACON'S HAT 53 



NELi {firmly) 

Nay, Mr. Roberts, I am searchin' on the shelf where 
I think that American Indian relish is. Ye act as 
if ye had some cause to hurry, Mr. Roberts. Wait 
a moment, if you please. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

Well, indeed, but I am keepin' Mrs. Jones the Wash 
waitin' ! 

NELI {to Mrs. Jones) 
Ye are in no haste? 

MRS. JONES THE WASH {thoroughly comfortable and 
happy) 

Nay, mum, no haste at all. I am havin* a rest, an' 
't is grand an' warm here whatever. 

NELI {maliciously to Deacon) 
Does it feel hot by the fire.^ 

DEACON ROBERTS {experiencing novel sensations on the 
crown of his bald head) 

Mrs. Williams, mum, 't is hot in Y Gegin, but as with 
Llanycil Churchyard, Y Gegin is only the portal 
to a hotter an' a bigger place where scorchin' flames 
burn forever an' forever. Proverbs saith, *Hell an' 
destruction are never full.' What, then, shall be 
the fate of women who have no wisdom, Mrs. Will- 
iams, mum.^ 

NELI {searching for relish) 

Aye, what.f^ Well, indeed, the men must know. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH {uodding her head appreciatively 
at Hugh) 

Such eloquence, Mr. Williams! Aye, who in chapel 
has such grand theology as Deacon Roberts! 
{^She sighs. The bell rings violently again, and Tom 



54 THE DEACON^S HAT 

Morris the Sheep enters. He is dressed in gaiters, a 
shepherd's cloak, etc., etc. He carries a crook in his 
hand. He is a grizzle-haired, rosy-faced old man, raw- 
honed, strong and awkward, with a half-earnest, half- 
foolish look. 
NELi {looking around) 

Aye, Tom Morris the Sheep, come in an' sit down. I 
am lookin' out an American Indian reHsh for the 
Deacon. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Yiss, mum. I am wantin' to buy a Httle tobacco, 
mum. 'T is lonely upon the hillsides with the sheep, 
whatever. 
DEACON ROBERTS (hastily) 

I must go now, Mrs. Williams, mum, an' ye can wait 
on Tom Morris. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Nay, nay, Mr. Roberts, sir, there is no haste. 
NELI (to Tom Morris) 

Sit down there by the door, if you please. 

£Tom Morris seats himself on other side of door by 

back center. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Yiss, mum. (Touches his forelock to Mrs. Jones the 
Wash) A grand day for the clothes, Mrs. Jones, mum. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Yiss, yiss, an' as I was just sayin' 't is a meltin' day 
for the soap! 
NELI (significantly) 
An' perhaps 't is a meltin' day for somethin' besides 
soap! 
l^She looks at Deacon, 



THE DEACON'S HAT 55 

HUGH (earnestly) 

Yiss, yiss, for souls, meltin' for souls, I am hopin'. 
(Picking up the book from the little three-legged table, 
and speaking to the Deacon) They are enlargin' the 
burial ground in Llanycil Churchyard — achoo! 
achoo ! 

DEACON ROBERTS (slyly moving a step away from fire) 
They're only enlargin' hell, Hughie lad, an* in that 
place they always make room for all. 
[He casts a stabbing look at Neli. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH (nodding head) 

True, true, room for all! (Chuckling) But 't would 
be a grand place to dry the clothes in! 

DEACON ROBERTS (severely) 

Mrs. Jones, mum, hell is paved with words of light- 
ness. 

HUGH (looking up from book, his face expressing delight) 
Deacon Roberts, I have searched for the place of 
hell, but one book sayeth one thing, an' another 
another. Where is hell,'* 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Aye, where is hell? 

[The bell rings violently. All start except Neli. Mrs. 
Jenkins the Midwife enters. She is an old woman, 
white-haired and with a commanding, somewhat dis- 
agreeable expression on her face. She wears a cloak 
and black Welsh beaver and walks with a stick. 

NELI 

Yiss, yiss, Mrs. Jenkins the Midwife, I am just 
lookin' out a rehsh for the Deacon. Sit down by 
the fire, please. 



56 THE DEACON'S HAT 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE {seating herself on other 
side of fire) 

Aye, mum, IVe come for pins; I'm in no haste, 
mum. 

NELI 

Is it Jane Elin's baby? 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE 

Aye, Jane Elin's, an' 't is my sixth hundredth birth. 

HUGH 

We're discussing the place of hell, Mrs. Jenkins, 
mum. 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE 

Well, indeed, I have seen the place of hell six hundred 
times then. {Coughs and nods her head up and down 
over stick) Heaven an' hell I'm thinkin' we have 
with us here. 

HUGH 

Nay, nay, how could that be? Tell us where is the 

place of hell. Deacon Roberts. 

l^All listen with the most intense interest. 

DEACON ROBERTS {nodding) 

Aye, the place of hell — {stopping suddenly, a terri- 
fied look on his face, as the butter slides against the 
forward rim of his hat, almost knocking it off, then 
going on with neck rigid and head straight up) to me 
is known where is that place — their way is dark an' 
slippery; they go down into the depths, an' their 
soul is melted because of trouble. 

NELI {pausing sceptically) 

Aye, 't is my idea of hell whatever with souls meltin', 
Mr. Roberts! 



THE DEACON'S HAT 57 

HUGH {tense with expectation) 

Tell us where is that place! 
DEACON ROBERTS {neck rigid, head unmoved and voice 

querulous) 

Yiss, yiss. {Putting his hand up and letting it down 

quickly) Ahem! Ye believe that it rains in Bala? 
HUGH {eyes on Deacon in childlike faith) 

I do. 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE 

Yiss, yiss, before an' after every birth whatever! 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Yiss, yiss, who would know better than I that it 
rains in Bala? 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Aye, amen, it rains in Bala upon the hills an' in the 
valleys. 

DEACON ROBERTS 

Ye believe that it can rain in Bala both when the 

moon is full an' when 't is new? 
HUGH {earnestly) 

I do. 
MRS. JONES THE WASH (wcarily) 

Yiss, any time. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Aye, all the time. 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE 

Yiss, yiss, it rains ever an' forever! 
NELi {forgetting the relish search) 

Well, indeed, 't is true it can rain in Bala at any 

time an' at all times. 
DEACON ROBERTS {paying no attention to Neli) 

Ye believe that Tomen-y-Bala is Ararat? 



58 THE DEACON'S HAT 

HUGH {clutching his book more tightly and speaking in a 
whisper) 

Yiss. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Aye, 't is true. 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE 

Yiss, the Hill of Bala is Ararat. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Yiss, I have driven the sheep over it whatever more 

than a hundred times. 
NELi {both hands on counter, leaning forward, listening 

to Deacon's words) 

Aye, Charles-y-Bala said so. 
DEACON ROBERTS {stUl ignoring Neli and lowering his 

coat tails carefully) 

Ye believe, good people, that the Druids called 

Noah "Tegid," an' that those who were saved were 

cast up on Tomen-y-Bala.'* 

HUGH 

Amen, I do ! 
MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE (uodding her old head) 
Aye, 't is true. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Yiss, yiss. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Amen, 't is so. 
DEACON ROBERTS {moving a few steps away from the 
fire, standing sidewise, and lifting hand to head, 
checking it in midair) 

An' ye know that Bala has been a lake, an' Bala 
will become a lake? 



THE DEACON'S HAT 59 

HUGH 

Amen, I do! 

NELi (assenting for the first time) 
Yiss, 't is true — that is. 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Dear anwyly yiss! 

DEACON ROBERTS (with Warning gesture towards window) 
Hell is out there — movin' beneath Bala Lake to 
meet all at their comin'. (Raises his voice suddenly) 
Red-hot Baal stones will fall upon your heads — 
Baal stones. Howl ye! (Shouting loudly) Meltin' 
stones smellin' of the bullocks. Howl, ye sinners! 
(Clasping his hands together desperately) Scorchin* 
hot — Oo — o — o — Howl ye! — howl ye! 
(The Deacon's hat sways, and he jams it down more 
tightly on his head. Unclasping his hands and as if 
stirring up the contents of a pudding dish) 'Round 
an' round like this! Howl, ye sinners, howl! 
[^All moan and sway to and fro except Neli, 

NELI (sceptically) 

What is there to fear? 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE (groaning) 
Nay, but what is there not to fear? 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Aye, outermost darkness. Och! Och! 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Have mercy ! 

DEACON ROBERTS (shoutiug again) 

Get ready ! Lift up your eyes ! (Welsh heaver almost 
falls off and is set straight in a twinkling) Beg for 



60 THE DEACON'S HAT 

mercy before the stones of darkness burn thee, an' 

there is no water to cool thy tongue, an' a great 

gulf is fixed between thee an' those who might 

help thee! 
NELi (spellbound by the Deacon's eloquence and now 

oblivious to hat, etc.) 

Yiss, yiss, 't is true, 't is very true! 

[^She steps down from chair and places hands on 

counter. 
DEACON ROBERTS (Ms facc convulsed, shouting directly 

at her) 

Sister, hast thou two eyes to be cast into hell fire? 
NELI {terrified and swept along by his eloquence) 

Two eyes to be burned? 

\_All lower their heads, groaning and rocking to and 

fro, 
DEACON ROBERTS (the buttcr trickling down his face, 

yelling with sudden violence) 

Hell is here an' now. Here in Bala, here in Y Gegin, 

here with us! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners! 

\IAII moan together, 
HUGH (whispering) 

Uch, here! 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE 

Yiss, here! 

MRS. JONES THE WASH 

Yiss. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP (terrified) 
Aye. Amen! Yiss! 



THE DEACON'S HAT 61 



NELi (whispering) '^ 
Here in Y Gegin! 

DEACON ROBERTS (dapping his hands to his face) 

Stones of Baal, stones of darkness, slimy with ooze, 
red-hot ooze, thick vapors! Howl ye, howl, ye sin- 
ners! 

(All moan and groan. Takes a glance at clock, passes 
hand over face and runs on madly, neck rigid, eyes 
staring, fat red cheeks turning to purple) 
Midday, not midnight, is the hour of hell; its sun 
never sets! But who knows when comes that hour 
of Hell? 

NELI (taking hands from counter and crossing them as 
she whispers) 
Who knows? 

ALL (groaning) 
Who knows? 

HUGH (voice quavering and lifting his Welsh essays) 
Who knows? 

DEACON ROBERTS (big yellow drops pouring down his 
face, his voice full of anguish) 

I will tell ye when is the hour of Hell. (He points to 
the clock) Is one the hour of Hell? Nay. Two? 
Nay. Three? No, not three. Four? Four might 
be the hour of Hell, but 't is not. Five? Nor five, 
indeed. Six? Nay. Seven? Is seven the hour, the 
awful hour? Nay, not yet. Eight? Is eight the 
hour — an hour bright as this bright hour? Nay, 
eight is not. (The Deacon shouts in a mighty voice 
and points with a red finger at the clock) 'T is comin' ! 
Tiscomin, Isay! Howl ye, howl! Only one miu- 



62 THE DEACON'S HAT 

ute more! Sinners, sinners, lift up your eyes! Cry 
for mercy! (All groan) Cry for mercy! When the 
clock strikes twelve, 't will be the hour of Hell! 
Fix your eyes upon the clock! Watch! Count! 
Listen! 'T is strikin'. The stroke! The hour is 
here! 

l^All dropped on their knees and turned towards the 
clock, their backs to the street door, are awaiting the 
awful stroke. The book has fallen from Hugh's hands. 
NeWs hands are clenched. Mrs. Jenkins the Midwife 
is nodding her old head. Mrs. Jones the Wash, on her 
knees, her face upturned to the clock, is rubbing up and 
down her thighs as if at the business of washing. Tom 
Morris the Sheep is prostrate and making a strange 
buzzing sound between his lips. The wheels of the 
clever old timepiece whir and turn. Then in the silent 
noonday the harsh striking begins: One, Two, Three, 
Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, 
Twelve. 
DEACON ROBERTS (yelling suddenly in a loud and terrible 
voice) 

Hell let loose! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners! (All 
cover their eyes. All groan or moan. The clock ticks, 
the flame in the grate flutters, Nelis bosom rises and 
falls heavily) Lest worse happen to ye, sin no more! 
[^The Deacon looks at them all quietly. Then he lifts 
his hands in sign of blessing, smiles and vanishes 
silently through street door. All remain stationary in 
their terror. Nothing happens. But at last Neli 
fearfully, still spellbound by the Deacon's eloquence, 
lifts her eyes to the clock. Then cautiously she turns a 
little towards the fire and the place of Deacon Roberts* 



THE DEACQN^S HAT 63 

NELI 

Uch! (She stands on her feet and cries out) The 
Deacon is gone ! 

HUGH (raising his eyes) 
Uch, what is it? Babylon — 

NELI 

Babylon nothing! 

[^She wrings her hands, 
MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE (groaning) 

Is he dead? Is he dead? 
NELI (with sudden plunge towards the door) 

Uch, ye old hypocrite, ye villain! Uch, my butter 

an' my eggs, my butter an' my eggs! 

{_Neli throws open the door and slams it to after her as 

she pursues the Deacon out into the bright midday 

sunshine. 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE 

Well, indeed, what is it? Has she been taken? 
MRS. JONES THE WASH (getting up heavily) 

Such movin' eloquence! A saintly man is Deacon 
Roberts! 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Aye, a saintly man is Deacon Roberts! 
HUGH (picking up his book and speaking slowly) 
Aye, eloquence that knoweth the place of Hell even 
better than it knoweth Bala whatever! 

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE (very busiuessUkc) 
Aye, 't was a treat — a rare treat! But where's 
my pins now? 



64 THE DEACON'S HAT 

MRS. JONES THE WASH {very businesslike) 

Yiss, yiss, 't was a grand an' fine treat. But I'm 
wantin' my soap now. 

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP 

Have ye any tobacco, Hughie lad? 

CURTAIN 



WELSH HONEYMOON 



CHARACTERS 

Vavasour Jones 

Catherine Jones, his wife 

EiLiR Morris, nephew of Vavasour Jones 

Mrs. Morgan, the baker 

Howell Howell, the milliner 



WELSH HONEYMOON 

Place: Beddgelert, a little village in North Wales. 

A Welsh kitchen. At back, in center, a deep ingle, 
with two hobs and fire bars fixed between, on either side 
settles. On the left-hand side near the fire a church; on 
the right, in a pile, some peat ready for use. Above the 
fireplace is a mantel on which are set some brass candle^ 
sticks, a deep copper cheese bowl, and two pewter plates. 
Near the left settle is a three-legged table set with teapot, 
cups and saucers for two, a plate of bread and butter, a 
plate of jam, and a creamer. At the right and to the right 
of the door, is a tall, highly polished, oaken grandfathered 
clock, with a shining brass face; to the left of the door is a 
tridarn. The tridarn dresser is lined with bright blue 
paper and filled with luster china. The floor is of beaten 
clay, whitewashed around the edges; from the rafters of 
the peaked ceiling hang flitches of bacon, hams, and 
bunches of onions and herbs. On the hearth is a copper 
kettle singing gaily; and on either side of the flreplace 
are latticed windows opening into the kitchen. Through 
the door to the right, when open, may be seen the flagstones 
and cottages of a Welsh village street; through latticed 
windows the twinkling of many village lights. 

It is about half after eleven on Allhallows Eve in the 
village of Beddgelert. 

At rise of curtain, the windows of kitchen are closed; 
the fire is burning brightly, and two candles are lighted 
on the mantelpiece. Vavasour Jones, about thirty-five 



70 WELSH HONEYMOON 

years old, dressed in a striped vest, a short, heavy blue 
coat, cut away in front, and with swalloivtails behind, and 
trimmed with brass buttons, and somewhat tight trousers 
down to his boot tops, is standing by the open door at the 
right, looking out anxiously onto the glittering, rain-wet 
flagstone street and calling after some one. 

VAVASOUR^ (calling) 

Kats, Kats, mind ye come home soon from Pally 

Hughes's ! 
CATHERINE (from a distance) 

Aye, I'm no wan tin' to go, but I must. Good-by! 

VAVASOUR 

Good-by! Kats, ye mind about comin' home? 
(There is no reply, and Vavasour looks still further 
into the rain-wet street. He calls loudly and desper- 
ately) Kats, Kats darlin', I cannot let you go with- 
out tellin' ye that — Kats, do ye hear? 
[There is still no reply and after one more searching of 
the street. Vavasour closes the door and sits down on 
the end of the nearest settle. 

VAVASOUR 

Dear, dear, she's gone, an' I may never see her 
again, an' I'm to blame, an' she didn't know what- 
ever that in the night — (Loud knocking on the closed 
door; Vavasour jumps and stands irresolute) The 
devil, it can't be comin' for her already? 
[The knocking grows louder. 
VOICE (calling) 

Catherine, Vavasour, are ye in? 

^ The a's are broad throughout, i. e. Kats is pronounced Kaats; 
Vavasour is Vavasoor: ou is oo. 



WELSH HONEYMOON 71 

VAVASOUR {opening the door) 
Aye, come in, whoever ye are. 

\_Mrs. Morgan the Baker, dressed in a scarlet whittle 
and freshly starched white cap beneath her tall Welsh 
beaver hat, enters, shaking the rain from her cloak. 

MRS. MORGAN 

Where's Catherine? 

VAVASOUR 

She's gone, Mrs. Morgan. 

MRS. MORGAN 

Gone.^ Are ye no goin' ? Not goin' to Pally Hughes's 
on Allhallows' Eve.^ 
VAVASOUR (shaking his head and looking very white) 
Nay, I'm no feelin' well. 

MRS. MORGAN 

Aye, I see ye're ill? 

VAVASOUR 

Well, I'm not ill, but I'm not well. Not well at all, 
Mrs. Morgan. 

MRS. MORGAN 

We'll miss ye, but I must hurry in' on whatever; 
I'm late now. Good night! 
YAVASOTJR (speaking drearily) Goodnight! (He closes 
the door and returns to the settle, where he sits down by 
the pile of peat and drops his head in his hand. Then 
he starts up nervously for no apparent cause and opens 
one of the lattice windows. With an exclamation of 
fear, he slams it to and throws his weight against the 
door. Calling and holding hard to the door) Ye've 
no cause to come here! Ye old death's head, get 
away! 
[Outside there is loud pounding on the door and a voice 



72 WELSH HONEYMOON 

shouting for admittance. Vavasour is obliged to fall 
back as the door is gradually forced open, and a head is 
thrust in, a white handkerchief tied over it. 

HOWELL HOWELL (sccing the terror-stricken face of 
Vavasour) 

Well, man, what ails ye; did ye think I was a ghost? 
(Howell Howell the Milliner, in highlows and a plum- 
colored coat, a handkerchief on his hat, enters, stamping 
off the rain and closing the door. He carefully wipes 
off his plum-colored sleeves and speaks indignantly) 
Well, man, are ye crazy, keepin' me out in the rain 
that way? Where's Catherine? 

VAVASOUR (stammering) 

She's at P-p-p-ally Hughes's. 

HOWELL HOWELL 

Are ye no goin'? 

VAVASOUR 

Nay, Howell Howell, I'm no goin'. 

HOWELL HOWELL 

An' dressed in your best? What's the matter? 
Have ye been drinkin' whatever? 
VAVASOUR (wrathfully) 

Drinkin'! I'd better be drinkin' when neighbors go 
walkin' round the village on Allhallow's Eve with 
their heads done up in white. 

HOWELL HOWELL 

Aye, well, I can't be spoilin' the new hat I have, that 

I cannot. A finer beaver there has never been in my 

shop. 

[He takes off the handkerchief, hangs it where the heat 

of the fire will dry it a bit, and then, removing the beaver ^ 

shows it to Vavasour, turning it this way and that. 



WELSH HONEYMOON 73 



VAVASOUR (absent-mindedly) 
Aye, grand, grand, man! 

HOWELL HOWELL 

What are ye gazin' at the clock for? 
VAVASOUR (guiltily) 

I'm no lookin' at anythmg. 

HOWELL HOWELL 

Well, indeed, I must be goin*, or I shall be late at 
Pally Hughes's. Good night. 

VAVASOUR 

Good night. 

(He closes the door and stands before the clock, study- 
ing it. While he is studying its face the door opens 
slowly, and the tumbled, curly head of a lad about 
eighteen years of age peers in. The door continues 
slowly to open. Vavasour unconscious all the while) 
'Tis ten now. Ten, eleven, twelve; that's three 
hours left, 'tis; nay, nay, 'tis only two hours left, 
after all, an' then — 

EILIR MORRIS (bounding in and shutting the door behind 
him with a bang) 
Boo! Whoo — o — o! 

VAVASOUR (his face blanched, dropping limply on to the 

settle) 

The devil! 
EILIR MORRIS (troubled) 

Uch, the pity. Uncle! I didn't think, an' ye're ill! 

VAVASOUR 

Tut, tut, 'tis no matter, an' I'm not ill — not ill at 
all, but Eihr, lad, ye're kin, an' — could ye promise 
never to tell.? 



74 WELSH HONEYMOON 

EiLiR MORRIS (wko thiuks Ms uncle has been drinking^ 
speaks to him as if he would humor his whim) 
Aye, Uncle, I'm kin, an' I promise. Tell on. What 
is it? Are ye sick? 

VAVASOUR (drearily) 
Uch, lad, I'm not sick ! 

EILIR MORRIS 

Well, what ails ye? 

VAVASOUR 

'Tis Allhallow's Eve an' — 

EILIR MORRIS 

Aren't ye goin' to Pally Hughes's? 

VAVASOUR (moaning and rising) 

Ow, the devil, goin' to Pally Hughes's while 'tis 
drawin' nearer an' nearer an' — Ow! 'Tis the night 
when Catherine must go. 

EILIR MORRIS 

When Aunt Kats must go! What do you mean? 

VAVASOUR 

She'll be dead to-night at twelve. 

EILIR MORRIS (bewildered) 

Dead at twelve? But she's at Pally Hughes's. Does 
she know it? 

VAVASOUR 

No, but I do, an' to think I've been unkind to her! 
I've tried this year to make up for it, but 'tis no 
use, lad; one year '11 never make up for ten of harsh 
words, whatever. Ow! 

[^Groaning, Vavasour collapses on to the settle and 
rocks to and fro, moaning aloud. 



WELSH HONEYMOON 75 

EiLiR MORRIS {mystified) 

Well, ye've not been good to her, Uncle, that's cer- 
tain; but ye've been different the past year. 

VAVASOUR (sobbing) 

Aye, but a year'U not do any good, an' she'll be dyin' 
at twelve to-night. Ow! I've turned to the scrip- 
tures to see what it says abous a man an' his wife, 
but it'll no do, no do, no do ! 

EILIR MORRIS 

Have ye been drinkin', Uncle .^ 
VAVASOUR (hotly) 
Drinkin' ! 

EILIR MORRIS 

Well, indeed, no harm, but, Uncle, I cannot under- 
stand why Aunt Kats's goin' an' where. 
VAVASOUR (rising suddenly from the settle and seizing 
Eilir by the coat lapel) 

She's goin' to leave me, lad; 'tis Allhallow's Eve 
whatever! An' she'll be dyin' at twelve. Aye, a 
year ago things were so bad between us, on All- 
hallow's Eve I went down to the church porch shortly 
before midnight to see whether the spirit of your 
Aunt Kats would be called an' — 

EILIR MORRIS 

Uncle, 'twas fair killin' her! 

VAVASOUR 

I wanted to see whether she would live the twelve 
months out. An' as I was leanin' against the church 
wall, hopin', aye, lad, prayin' to see her spirit there, 
an' know she'd die, I saw somethin' comin' 'round 
the corner with white over its head. 



76 WELSH HONEYMOON 

EiLiR MORRIS {waiUng) 
Ow — w! 

VAVASOUR 

It drew nearer an' nearer, an' when it came in full 
view of the church porch, it paused, it whirled 
around like that, an* sped away with the shroud 
flappin' about its feet, an' the rain beatin' down on 
its white hood. 
EILIR MORRIS {waiting again) 
Ow — w! 

VAVASOUR 

But there was time to see that it was the spirit of 
Catherine, an* I was glad because my wicked prayer 
had been answered, an' because with Catherine 
dyin' the next Allhallow's, we'd have to live together 
only the year out. 
EILIR MORRIS {raising his hand) 
Hush, what's that.^ 

VARASOUR 

'Tis voices whatever. 

[^Both listen, Eilir goes to the window, Vavasour to the 

door. The voices become louder, 

EILIR MORRIS 

They're singin' a song at Pally Hughes's. 
{Voices are audibly singing) 

Ni awn adre bawb dan ganu, 

Ar hyd y nos; 
Saif ein hiaith safo Cymru, 

Ar hyd y nos; 
Bydded undeb a brawdgarwch 
Ini'n gwlwm diogelwch, 



WELSH HONEYMOON 77 

Felly canwn er hyfrydwch, 
Ar hyd y nos. 

Sweetly sang beside a fountain. 

All llirough the night, 
Mona's maiden on that mountain. 

All through the night. 
When wilt thou, from war returning. 
In whose breast true love is burning, 
Come and change to joy my mourning. 

By day and night? 

VAVASOUR 

Aye, they're happy, an' Kats does not know. I 
went home that night, lad, thinkin' 'twas the last 
year we'd have to live together, an', considerin' as 
'twas the last year, I might just as well try to be 
decent an' kind. An' when I reached home, Cather- 
ine was up waitin' for me an' spoke so pleasantly, an' 
we sat down an' had a long talk — just like the 
days when we were courtin', 

EILIR MORRIS 

Did she know. Uncle .'^ 
VAVASOUR (puzzled) 

Nay, how could she know. But she seems queer, — 
as if she felt the evil comin'. Well, indeed, each day 
was sweeter than the one before, an' we were man an' 
wife in love an' kindness at last, but all the while I 
was thinkin' of that figure by the churchyard. Lad, 
lad, ye'll be marryin' before long, — be good to her, 
lad, be good to her! 
[Vavasour lets go the lapels of Eilir's coat and sinks 



78 WELSH HONEYMOON 

back on to the settle, half sobbing. Outside the roar of 
wind and rain growing louder can be heard. 

VAVASOUR (looking at the clock) 

An' here 'tis Allhallow's Eve again, an' the best 
year of my hfe is past, an' she must die in an hour 

' an' a half. Ow, ow! It has all come from my own 
evil heart an' evil wish. Think, lad, prayin' for her 
callin'; aye, goin' there, hopin' ye'd see her spirit, 
an' countin' on her death! 

EILIR MORRIS (moumfully) 

Aye, Uncle, 'tis bad, an' I've no word to say to ye 
for comfort. I recollect well the story Granny used 
to tell about Christmas Pryce; 'twas somethin' the 
same whatever. An' there was Betty Williams was 
called a year ago, an' is dead now; an' there was 
Silvan Griffith, an' Geffery, his friend, an' Silvan 
had just time to dig Geffery 's grave an' then his own, 
too, by its side, an' they was buried the same day an' 
hour. 

VAVASOUR (wailing) 
Ow — w — w ! 

\^At that moment the door is blown violently open by 
the wind; both men jump and stare out into the dark 
where only the dimmed lights of the rain-swept street 
are to be seen, and the very bright windows of Pally 
Hughes's cottage. 

EILIR MORRIS 

Uch, she'll be taken there! 

VAVASOUR 

Aye, an', Eilir, she was loath to go to Tally's, but I 
could not tell her the truth. 



WELSH HONEYMOON 79 



EILIR MORRIS 

Are ye not goin'. Uncle? 

VAVASOUR 

Nay, lad, I cannot go. I'm fair crazy. I'll just be 
stayin' home, waitin' for them to bring her back. 
Ow — w — w! 

EILIR MORRIS 

Tut, tut, Uncle, I'm sorry. I'll just see for ye what 

they're doin'. 

[^Eilir steps out and is gone for an instant. He comes 

back excitedly. 
VAVASOUR (shouting after him) 

Can ye see her, lad.^^ 
EILIR MORRIS {returning) 

Dear, they've a grand display, raisins an' buns, an' 

spices an' biscuits — 

VAVASOUR 

But your Aunt Kats? 

EILIR MORRIS 

Aye, an' a grand fire, an' a tub with apples in it an' — 

VAVASOUR 

( But Catherine? 

EILIR MORRIS 

Aye, she was there near the fire, an' just as I turned, 
they blew the lights out. 

VAVASOUR 

Blew the lights out! Uch, she'll be taken there 
whatever! 

EILIR MORRIS 

They're tellin' stories in the dark. 



80 WELSH HONEYMOON 

VAVASOUR 

Go back again an' tell what ye can see of your Aunt 
Kats, lad. 

EILIR MORRIS 

Aye. 

VAVASOUR (shouting after him) 

Find where she's sittin', lad — make certain of that. 
EILIR MORRIS (running in breathless) 

They're thro win' nuts on the fire — 

VAVASOUR 

Is she there.'* 

EILIR MORRIS 

I'm thinkin' she is, but old Pally Hughes was just 
throwin' a nut on the fire an' — 
VAVASOUR (impatiently) 

'Tis no matter about Pally Hughes whatever, but 
your Aunt Kats, did — 

EILIR MORRIS 

There was only the light of the fire; I did not see her, 
but I'll go again. 

VAVASOUR 

Watch for her nut an' see does it burn brightly. 

EILIR MORRIS (going out) 
Aye. 

VAVASOUR (calling after) 

Mind, I'm wantin' to know what she's doin'. 
[^He has scarcely spoken the last word when a great 
commotion is heard: a door across the street being 
slammed to violently, and the sound of running feet. 
Vavasour straightens up, his eyes in terror on the door, 
which Catherine Jones throws open and bursts through. 



WELSH HONEYMOON 81 

VAVASOUR {holding out his arms) 
Catherine, is it really ye! 

[Catherine, after a searching glance at him, draws 
herself up. Vavasour draws himself up, too, and then 
stoops to pick up some peat which he puts on the fire, 
and crosses over to left and sits down on the settle near 
the chimney, without having embraced her. Catherine's 
face is flushed, her eyes wild under the pretty white 
cap she wears, a black Welsh beaver above it. She is 
dressed in a scarlet cloak, under this a tight bodice and 
short, full skirt, bright stockings, and clogs with brass 
tips. Her apron is of heavy linen, striped; over her 
breast a kerchief is crossed, and from the elbows down 
to the wrist are full white sleeves stiffly starched. 

CATHERINE 

Yiss, yiss, 'twas dull at Pally 's — very dull. My nut 
didn't burn very brightly, an' — an' — well, indeed, 
my feet was wet, an' I feared takin' a cold. 

VAVASOUR 

Yiss, yiss, 'tis better for ye here, dearie. 
[Then there is silence between them. Catherine still 
breathes heavily from the running, and Vavasour 
shuffles his feet. While they are both sitting there, 
unable to say a word, the door opens without a sound, 
and Eilir's curly head is thrust in. A guttural excla- 
mation from him makes them start and look towards 
the door, but he closes it before they can see him. Cath- 
erine then takes off her beaver and looks at Vavasour. 
Vavasour opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it 
again. 
VAVASOUR (desperately) 

Did ye have a fine time at Pally 's? 



82 WELSH HONEYMOON 

CATHERINE 

Aye, 'twas gay an' fine an' — an' — yiss, yiss, so 

'twas an' so 'twasn't. 
VAVASOUR {his eyes seeking the clock) 

A quarter past eleven, uch! Katy, do ye recall 

Pastor Evan's sermon, the one he preached last 

New Year? 
CATHERINE {olso glancing at the clock) 

Sixteen minutes after eleven — yiss — yiss — 
VAVASOUR {catching Catherine's glance at the clock) 

Well, Catherine, do — 

CATHERINE 

Yiss, yiss, I said I did whatever. 'Twas about 
inheritin' the grace of life together. 

VAVASOUR 

Kats, dear, wasn't he sayin' that love is eternal, an' 

that — a man — an' — an' — his wife was lovin' for 

— for — 
CATHERINE {glancing at the clock and meeting Vavasour's 

eyes just glancing away from the clock) 

Aye, lad, for everlastin' life! Uch, what have I 

done? 
VAVASOUR {unheeding and doubling up as if from pain) 

Half after eleven! Yiss, yiss, dear, didn't he say 

that the Lord was mindful of us — of our difficulties, 

an' our temptations an' our mistakes? 
CATHERINE {tragically) 

Aye, an' our mistakes. Ow, ow, ow, but a half 

hour's left! 

VAVASOUR 

Do ye think, dearie, that if a man were to — to — 



WELSH HONEYMOON 83 

uch! — be unkind to his wife — an' was sorry an' 

his wife — his wife dies, that he'd be — be — 
CATHERINE {tenderly) 

Aye, I'm thinkin' so. An', lad dear, do ye think if 

anythin' was to happen to ye to-night, — yiss, this 

night, — that ye'd take any grudge against me away 

with ye? 
VAVASOUR (stiffening) 

Happen to me, Catherine? 

^Vavasour collapses, groaning. Catherine goes to his 

side on the settle. 
CATHERINE (in an agonized voice) 

Uch, dearie, what is it, what is it, what ails ye? 
VAVASOUR (slanting an eye at the clock) 

Nothin', nothin' at all. Ow, the devil, 'tis twenty 

minutes before twelve whatever! 

CATHERINE 

Lad, lad, what is it? 

VAVASOUR 

'Tis nothin', nothin' at all — 'tis — ow! — 'tis just 

a little pain across me. 
CATHERINE (her face whitening as she steals a look at the 

clock and puts her arm around Vavasour) 

Vavasour, lad dear, is that the wind in the chimney? 

Put your arm about me an' hold fast. 
VAVASOUR (both hands across his stomach, his eyes on 

the clock) 

Ow — ten minutes ! 
CATHERINE (shaking all over) 

Is that a step at the door? 
VAVASOUR (unheeding) 

'Tis goin' to strike now in a minute. 



84 WELSH HONEYMOON 

CATHERINE {her eyes in horror on the clock) 
Five minutes before twelve! 

VAVASOUR {almost crying, his eyes fixed on the cloches 
face) 
Uch, the toad, the serpent! 

CATHERINE {her face in her hands) 
Dear God, he's goin' now! 

VAVASOUR {covering his eyes) 

Uch, the devil! Uch, the gates of hell! 
[^Catherine cries out. Vavasour groans loudly. The 
clock is striking: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, 
Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve! The last 
loud clang vibrates and subsides. Through a chink in 
her fingers Catherine is peering at Vavasour. Through 
a similar chink his agonized eyes are peering at her, 

CATHERINE {gulpiug) 
Uch! 

VAVASOUR 

The devil! 

CATHERINE {putting out her hand to touch him) 
Lad, dear! 

\^They embrace, they kiss, they dance madly about. 
Then they do it all over again. While they are doing 
this, Eilir opens the door again and thrusts in his 
head. He stares open-eyed, open-mouthed at them, and 
leans around the side of the door to see what time it is, 
saying audibly ''five minutes past twelve,'' grunts his 
satisfaction, and closes the door. 

VAVASOUR {mad with joy) 

Kats, are ye here, really here? 

CATHERINE {surprised) 

Am / here? Tut, lad, are ye here? 



WELSH HONEYMOON 85 

VAVASOUR {shrewdly) 

Yiss, that is are we both here? 
CATHERINE (perplexed) 

Did ye think I wasn't goin' to be? 
VAVASOUR (suppressed intelligent joy in his eyes) 

No — o, not that, only I thought, I thought ye was 

goin' to — to — to faint, Kats. I thought ye looked 

like it, Kats. 
CATHERINE (the happiness on her face vanishing, sinks 

on to the nearest settle) 

Uch, I'm a bad, bad woman, aye. Vavasour Jones, a 

bad woman! 
VAVASOUR (puzzled, yet lightly) 

Nay, Kats, nay! 
CATHERINE (desperately and almost in tears) 

Ye cannot believe what I must tell ye. Lad, a year 

ago this night I went to the church porch, hopin', aye, 

prayin', ye'd be called, that I'd see your spirit walkin'. 
VAVASOUR (starting and recovering himself) 

Catherine, ye did that! 
CATHERINE (plunging on with her confession) 

Aye, lad, I did, I'd been so unhappy with the quar- 

relin' an' hard words. I could think of nothin' but 

gettin' rid of them. 
VAVASOUR {in a tone of condemnation and standing mer 

her) 

That was bad, very bad indeed! 

CATHERINE 

An' then, lad, when I reached the church corner an' 
saw your spirit was really there, really called, an' I 
knew ye'd not live the year out, I was frightened, 
but uch! lad, I was glad, I was indeed. 



80 WELSH HONEYMOON 

VAVASOUR {looking grave) 

Catherine, 'twas a terrible thing to do! 

CATHERINE {meekly) 

Yiss, I know it now, but I didn't then. I was hard- 
hearted, an' I was weak with longin' to escape from 
it all. An' when I ran home I was frightened, but 
uch! lad, I was glad, too, an' now it hurts me so to 
think of it. Can you no comfort me.^ 

VAVASOUR {grudgingly, hut not touching Catherine's out- 
stretched hand) 

Aye, well, I could, but Kats, 'twas such a terrible 
thing to do! 

CATHERINE 

Yiss, yiss, ye'U never be able to forgive me, I'm 
thinkin'. An' then when ye came in from the lodge, 
ye spoke so pleasantly to me that I was troubled. 
An' now the year through it has grown better an' 
better, an' I could think of nothin' but lovin' ye, 
an' wishin* ye to live, an' knowin' I was the cause of 
your bein' called. Uch, lad, can ye forgive me? 

VAVASOUR {slowly) 

Aye, I can, none of us is without sin; but, Catherine, 
it was wrong, aye, aye, 'twas a wicked thing for a 
woman to do. 

CATHERINE {stUl Tuore meekly) 
An' then to-night, lad, I was expectin' ye to go, 
knowin' ye couldn't live after twelve, an' ye sittin* 
there so innocent an' mournful. An* when the time 
came, I wanted to die myself. Uch! 

VAVASOUR {sitting down beside her and putting an arm 
about her as he speaks in a superior tone of voice) 
No matter, dearie, now. It was wrong in ye, but 



WELSH HONEYMOON 87 

we're still here, an' it's been a sweet year, yiss, better 
nor a honeymoon, an' all the years after we'll make 
better nor this. There, there, Kats, let's have a bit 
of a wassail to celebrate our Allhallow's honeymoon, 
shall we? 

CATHERINE {starting to fetch a howl) 

Yiss, lad, 'twould be fine, but Vavasour, can ye 
forgive me, think, lad, for hopin', aye, an' prayin' to 
see your spirit called, just wishin' that ye'd not live 
the year out? 

VAVASOUR {ivith condescension) 

Kats, I can, an' I'm not layin' it up against ye, 
though 'twas a wicked thing for ye to do — for any 
one to do. Now, darlin', fetch the bowl. 

CATHERINE {starting for the howl again hut turning on 
him) 

Vavasour, how does it happen that the callin' is set 
aside, an' that ye're really here? Such a thing has 
not been in Beddgelert in the memory of man. 

VAVASOUR {with dignity) 

I'm not say in' how it's happened, Kats, but I'm 
thinkin' 'tis modern times whatever, an' things have 
changed — aye, indeed, 'tis modern times. 

CATHERINE {sigMng contentedly) 

Good! 'Tis lucky 'tis modern times whatever! 

CURTAIN 






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